Spring Showers
by Abyssopelagic
Summary: Several months after a fateful visit to Usagi's world, Donatello finds himself dealing with the consequence of not thinking things through. OC story, no pairings.
1. Cinderella

_This story stems from the difficulty of finding a decent, realistic story about one of the turtles dealing with parenthood. (It's also inspired by the film_ Stardust-_at least, the beginning is.) To be fair, parenthood stories are difficult to find done well in any fandom, but for obvious reasons here in particular. I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, but I'm thoroughly enjoying working on this anyway!_

_Special thanks to Jennie and Gwen for their input and editing. I hope you all enjoy it, and I cannot express how much I appreciate feedback on my work. Thanks for reading!_

* * *

Donnie always thought things through.

He wasn't like Raph, the hothead who never questioned his strikes, or Mikey, self-proclaimed master of improvisation. Or even Leo, who could always hatch some astounding, different tactic in the face of their doom.

Donatello's decisions, by contrast, were shaped by his intellect. Careful schematics and wiring, building up and breaking down, slowly but surely piecing together something useful and, he had to admit, often very impressive. How many other teenagers had built military-class vehicles in their room?

He always had things under control. So now he wondered what it was that had made him push that control aside and give way to an impulse. What about the situation had changed everything for him? Sympathy, curiosity? Love?

Could someone even learn to love so quickly?

Leo had not exaggerated the place's beauty. Colours that felt too saturated to be real, mountains and rivers lifted straight from Sensei's _ukiyo-e. _It was Japan but not, a cheery watercolour of the real world. And populated by characters straight from Mikey's comic books, who went about their lives not knowing how unreal they were.

He almost walked right into her, his gaze turned towards the shout of someone hawking street food. Donnie steadied himself in a second and caught her arm as she stumbled in surprise.

He found himself looking into a face like his.

No, not quite. She was slimmer, not so muscled; her jaw had a feminine curve, an _obi _sash at her waist belied a female form. Her eyes widened, and she pulled her arm away, shrinking back towards her stall.

"I'm sorry!" Donnie said, too quickly. "I wasn't paying attention. Forgive me." He barely remembered to speak the right language for her to under, and bowed his head. The turtle girl watched him with her large eyes.

"You're not from nearby," she said quietly, stepping cautiously from the safety of her stall. "What an odd accent."

"No, I'm not," he agreed, feeling a flush rise through his cheeks. "I'm from very far away."

She nodded, and Donnie felt himself being examined under that gaze, by this girl who was just like him and whom he had never dared imagine was real.

These Japanese didn't like foreigners, he knew; even friendly Usagi spoke of them and their ships with disgust. But this girl smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling just slightly. It emboldened him, and he reached out to run his fingers over one of her wares (an owl carving, round and smooth).

"I'm Donatello," he said with a soft smile, and her expression warmed even more. But still, it hardly reached her eyes. It let him catch a glimpse of the sadness that lurked there, just underneath.

Her voice warmed as much as her smile did then, and they talked. They talked for what must have been hours at her quiet stall, and Donnie forgot that his brothers were still somewhere in that market, sifting through trinkets or having dinner in some cheap nearby inn. He was wrapped up instead in this girl, Akane (for that was her name, he learned), and how much closeness could grow with just a few words.

He told her as little as he could; his three brothers, their father, martial arts. _Bushi, _warrior caste—but no mention of ninjas. It pleased her anyway, because Donatello learned that few gave her the time of day. When she had been young and her parents couldn't feed one more daughter, they had sold her to an old woman who needed help in her woodcarving.

It was so cliché that he thought she had been lying at first, but of course her words were real. What did she know of the progressions of fiction? It wasn't her fault in the least.

How funny, that he would come so far away and find that the living Cinderella was a turtle like him, a turtle _girl,_ who smiled at foreigners and was bold enough to reach out and squeeze his fingers.

Donnie heard Michelangelo's teasing voice in his head, as other, female faces spun in his mind. _How girl-crazy can a turtle get, Donnie? Every time we run into a new one you go loopy! _But he pushed it back, and leaned forward on the sweetness of an impulse to kiss her instead.

The excitement of the street was dying down by then, the sun casting golden light through the trees and dimming the streets. Soon Leo would wonder aloud where Donnie had gone to, and he would have to leave this girl he now knew too well to abandon.

Her fingers squeezed his shoulders, trailed down to his hands again as he pulled away. Then she spoke, softer words that mirrored when he had first looked at her face.

"My mistress is gone till tomorrow night, visiting her sister," she said in one soft breath. "Come home and eat with me."

Donatello's mouth opened, the words _I can't _on his tongue as Akane leaned forward. She pressed the words into a _yes _with her kiss, and muffled the part of him screaming _you idiot! _as she stepped out from behind the stall and squeezed his hand again, turning to put her wares in their baskets. He helped her soundlessly, and shouldered for her the small load.

Behind the rice-paper walls and in the warm, sweet darkness, Donnie forgot his brothers and Usagi, that he was supposed to meet his family before dark so they could settle down for the night. He forgot that he was the turtle of reason, who always thought ahead and always had a plan. He only knew Akane's skin, her lips, her _yukata _sliding off.

He knew there could never be this again. Maybe love, if he found his way back, (w_ould he find his way back?_) but this progression, like a line of careful _kanji, _would never be so again. And it had warmed his soul too much to let it go.


	2. Consequential

_Hi, everyone! This next chapter is a little bit longer than the last, but we're getting more into the meat of the story now, which is always exciting! There are some mentions of goings-on from the _Usagi Yojimbo _comic series, but nothing that will be too spoiler-y, or confusing to get through. Please give your feedback, critical or otherwise! It's always appreciated._

* * *

Donnie didn't know when next he'd be back, if ever. He hadn't thought about it all that quiet morning, lying in this unfamiliar house that belonged to neither of them. Akane's head lay comfortably on his chest and he ran his fingers over her face, her shoulders, her shell. She turned her smile up to him, and he grinned lazily back.

Reality caught up to him again with the sight of his brothers through the _shoji_ screens, Usagi close behind. Donnie had been about to take a cup of tea when he had been jarred from this happiness. Akane saw them too, and as they stood up her hands stayed pressed around his.

Donatello saw clearly now the sadness in her eyes. Really—who else did she have, besides him for one night? Did the prince leave his princess to her fate?

Donnie kissed her in silence. This wasn't a fairy tale, after all; they weren't exactly getting a happy ending.

"If you ever need help," he said finally, her head against his chest, "my brothers and I will visit this place again. And our friend, the long-eared samurai … he frequents this town, too. See him behind them, out the window? He'll be kind to you."

She finally let him go, and as the paper door closed he gave his head a little shake, as if he could dislodge her memory from his mind. It hurt to do, because how fair was that to her?

He got outside, waved to them when he got close, and the barrage of questions was easy enough to avoid—how out of character it was for Donnie to disappear like that, what he had even been _up _to all night, they were sure some old enemy had caught up to him again …

"This place is just so fascinating," he said, with a smile to mask his lie. "I fell asleep in a temple studying some old scrolls. It won't happen again."

It didn't quite work on his brothers, or even Usagi; their arms were folded and eyes narrowed at his loose mask and flushed face. There was more to it, of course. But the four of them trusted each other, and Usagi had no qualms with putting his faith in Leonardo when it came to his brothers. It made Donnie's head ache with guilt.

Next time. When they returned to this town, he would come back for her, and explain everything to everyone. When he turned one last time to the little house, he saw a shadow in the doorway, watching them disappear. Donnie imagined her bright, sad eyes studying their figures, the promise of his return and safety with friends forming behind her gaze.

Donnie wondered if being in love was supposed to make your stomach twist up.

* * *

The little town reminded Usagi of his friends this time around.

Months of travel across Japan and back had brought him again to this place, and reminded him that he must return to Leonardo's world soon and invite them for another visit. It was barely spring now, and famous _haiku_ verse full of cherry blossoms and peeping frogs flowed through Usagi's mind. This town was different than it was in high summer—cool and quiet, with fewer people frequenting the market.

Usagi appreciated the solitude, really. It meant he wouldn't be as prone to finding trouble.

He had just caught sight of a decent-looking inn when she pulled on his sleeve.

Usagi turned abruptly, expecting trouble. What he saw was a frightened, tired girl with a basket in her hands. A young _kame_, who had bags under her dark eyes and wore a threadbare kimono.

He felt a rush of sympathy, but it was tempered by confusion. She was clearly under stress, but what did that have to do with him? It was rare that peasants were so bold with samurai, especially poor, tired ones.

"Do I know you?" he asked kindly. The girl shook her head, shrinking back. She was quite young; no older than the turtles he called friends, and they were barely twenty.

She swallowed hard, and met his eyes again. "You _are_ Usagi-san though, right? Friend of several turtles?"

Usagi blinked. Now this was getting interesting.

"I am," he replied, after a long moment. Had any of them befriended a girl while they had been here? Not that he knew of … the boys had mostly messed around at the stalls or enjoyed the good food. "May I ask how it is that you know me?"

The girl bobbed her head, before gently setting the basket down at her feet. Now she could straighten up and face him, and Usagi found himself seeing more than fear in her eyes. There was something important that she had to do, and now Usagi had been made a part of it.

So much for a quiet day and night.

"Please hear me out," she said, and her voice barely wavered. "My name is Akane. I saw you during last year's _Tanabata Matsuri_, and I met one of your friends. I … he told me about you, said if I ever needed help you and his brothers were kind."

Her face flushed, and she looked down at the basket. "We talked for a very long time, and he—we spent the night together. My mistress was out of town for the festival." She wrung her fingers together in front of her, exhaling slowly. "Hamato Donatello was his name."

_Spent the night. _Usagi's eyes widened. Had one brother—_that_ brother—not disappeared for that entire visit? The thought was hard to swallow, of gentle, calculated Donatello taking off with a servant girl that he barely knew. But the young woman's voice rang with truth.

Akane hung her head, and Usagi realized that he had shamed her inadvertently. "Please," he urged, smiling with what he hoped was reassurance. "Continue. Say what you must."

The girl gave a soft, shaky sigh, then crouched down next to her basket. Immediately her demeanor was more tender, her hands lifting off the blanket that covered it.

Usagi barely managed to keep his jaw from dropping. For the basket in front of him held a turtle child.

_What were the odds, Donatello-san? Did you bother to consider them?_

"The egg came months ago," Akane said in a low voice, reaching out to run a finger over her baby's face. Usagi knew little of how the reptile clans birthed their young; but did know about the eggs. The children were born (hatched?) ready to crawl and eat solid food, and were said to be similar enough to other babies.

Leonardo had told him once that they were mutants, not meant to exist as they were. How could something against nature then conceive a little one, a world away?

"Months ago," she repeated, jarring him back to reality. "And I kept it safe and warm, in my room. No one even knew everything I had done, until it hatched and I could pretend no more. My mistress tells me that if I don't find a place for her, then she will take her away herself. And I … samurai, I was a fool, but that is not the child's fault!"

For the first time, Usagi felt a rush of anger at the friendly Donatello—how could he not have seen ahead to the consequences of his actions? The suffering this girl would endure because he had given himself a pleasant night?

No, that was unfair. Usagi knew exactly how he could, and there was a mother and child in a village far north that were proof of his folly. They were how he knew he could not deny Akane and her daughter.

He finally crouched down too, to face her, and to get a better look at the child. Were those familiar features already on her face? The olive-green scales he had certainly seen before.

"What do you need me to do?" Usagi asked finally, his voice gentle. A child in jeopardy was everyone's concern, after all … even if it were a bastard. Then villagers turned away. Miyamoto Usagi would not.

The girl swallowed hard. She found her child's hand and let the tiny fingers wrap around her own, as if her child's presence gave her strength.

"If you know where her father is, take her to him. If not that, somewhere safe where she can survive." The pain in her voice was palpable, and Usagi winced in sympathy. "Donatello is a gentle soul, I could feel it. He said he would come back, but I knew not to hope, not really. But he should know about his child. I know he wouldn't harm her." Akane looked up at him, and for the first time Usagi saw real fire in her eyes. "Please help me, samurai. Fortune brought you this way again, just in time to save her."

What could he say? Usagi was a wandering _ronin, _nowhere better to go. And even if he did, would he leave this tiny girl to some early fate? His friends from beyond the portal—no, this girl's family, would never forgive him if he did

He would cause an uproar in Leonardo's home. But that would only be the beginning of Donatello's great consequence.

"Does she have a name?" he asked finally, watching the child shift in her sleep, one thumb tucked comfortably in her mouth. "If I am to take her far away, it would be good to have that trace of her mother."

For the first time, Akane smiled, her tired gaze turned onto her child.

"Haru," she said. _Spring. _"Simple, I know. But she came in hand with the season."


	3. Arrival

_Hi, everyone! Finally managed to crank this out, so that we can get back to all that lovely family bonding and introspection and stuff. Group scenes are tricky so it took quite a bit of playing with. Please leave a review and some feedback if possible!_

* * *

The sound of the portal opening was familiar. There was the crackling hiss of the fabric between dimensions burning a hole through itself, for a brief moment seeing two very different worlds feel the same rush of air from the ritual performed.

Donatello knew that sound, from the many times he and his brothers had caused it themselves. More often than not, though, it brought them enemies and pain, and they were expecting no otherworldly guests tonight.

So grabbing his bo staff as he rushed from his lab was the only right thing to do, just in case. The period of relative peace they had been enjoying had probably lasted too long anyway.

Out of the corner of his eye, Donnie could see his brothers do the same, dropping TV remotes and comic books to reach for their weapons instead.

When the figure stepped through, he prepared for the worst. But the telltale rabbit ears, pulled back in a samurai's topknot, were a dead giveaway to the figure's identity. Donnie relaxed.

"Usagi?" Leo's grin was wide and he sheathed his swords, vaulting over the couch to meet their friend. Nothing like his older brother's favourite swordsman to get Leonardo's guard down. "What are you doing here? Surprise visit?"

Donnie felt his muscles tense again at Usagi's thin smile. His fingers twitched briefly around his staff. Maybe he was being followed, and he jumped to their world to escape? Or he needed their help with some serious problem. Neither prospect was really a good one.

"Well, we can relax," Mikey said, his arms hanging over the edge of the couch. He grinned at Usagi. "It's only Leo's sword boyfriend. What's shakin', samurai?"

That earned a glower from their eldest brother, but Usagi didn't even raise his eyebrows. He seemed preoccupied, actually—he held a large, fairly cumbersome-looking basket in one hand. Usagi kept glancing at it as if it would jump up and bite him.

"My apologies for the sudden arrival, my friends." The portal closed quickly behind Usagi. Gently, he set the basket down. "But, as always, it's very good to see you all again."

The way he looked everywhere but at them, how he shrugged off Leo's friendly clap on the shoulder … he was clearly agitated. Donnie saw Leo straighten up, eyes narrowed, and saw how Raphael's grip tightened around one of his sai.

"What sort of news?" Donnie ventured, sticking his staff back into his belt. "You really don't look so good, Usagi. Do you need our help or something?"

The way the samurai looked at him, usually friendly, instead made Donnie's stomach twist. It was hard and piercing like Donnie had never seen. He closed his eyes for a moment. Then his head began to fill with theories, to try and figure out what it was he had done to the samurai.

Leonardo reached out for their friend's shoulder again, and Usagi seemed to relax—though his eyes were still on Donatello.

Donnie remembered then his secret. He kept his expression neutral, before Usagi finally shook his head and turned away.

"So!" Mikey said. His cheerful voice cut through the tension of the lair.

Donnie's youngest brother leaped over the couch and landed lightly in front of the basket. Donatello saw the twitch of Usagi's hands towards his parcel, though he pulled them back in a second. The samurai's eyes were on him again, and Donnie frowned. Miyamoto Usagi's gaze was usually bright and intense, but never so harsh, as if Donnie had committed some personal crime against him.

"So," Mikey said again, looking around at his family."Uh … what's in the basket, Usagi-san? Brought me a present?"

They were all quiet. Leo mumbled something unheard and Raph scowled at their guest, arms folded protectively against the tension.

"Yeah," Raph added, finally speaking up. "What are you doing lugging that thing around? It's-"

Raphael stopped mid-sentence. This was unlike his brother, just as it was unlike Mikey to have gone deadly quiet now that he'd lifted the blanket off the basket's top. Donatello peered over to see what was inside—and pulled back in surprise, eyes widening.

"Aww! Dudes, it's so _cute!_"

Mikey leaned in closer, obscuring the view of soft blankets and green scales that Donnie had found all too telling. Where had Usagi found thislittle creature? And more importantly, why had he brought it _here?_

Instantly the lair's atmosphere changed. Leo crouched down to peer over Mikey and get a better look, and even Raph took a few cautious steps forward, curiosity getting the better of him. Donnie stayed by the couch, fingers digging into the arm of the worn fabric. He could still see from here—definitely a _kame _infant, with tiny fingers and eyes squeezed shut in sleep.

_Remember, Akane, if you ever need help, find my friend Usagi if you can, alright?_

He breathed out slowly, reminding himself that that was too far-fetched. A hum of exclamations now surrounding his brothers as they got a better look at the child. They were mutants: freaks of nature, who had no hope of another generation.

"Who's a cute little shell-head?" Mikey cooed. "You are! You're a cute little shell-head!"

Leo finally looked up, his expression questioning. "Really though, Usagi. Why did you bring a baby here? Is it a family friend or something …?" His stance wasn't comfortable, but Donnie didn't blame him—the four of them had no experience with young children, much less ones like them.

"I … in a way, yes." Usagi finally settled himself into a kneel, glancing with irritation at the concrete, rather than _tatami _mats, beneath his legs. "Donatello-san, do you remember Akane?"

Donnie's stomach clenched. So much for that.

It just wasn't possible. There was no way.

Mikey sat back onto his heels and looked at his brother curiously. "Who's Akane?" he asked, and Donnie could see the question in Leo and Raph's eyes as well. From them, though, it made him shrink, their gaze so much more knowing and accusing.

Usagi suddenly seemed extremely flustered, giving Donatello a pained look. He shifted uncomfortably, fingers twitching where they rested on his knees.

Donnie's gaze fell on the tiny figure in the basket, his eyes seeing what his brain refused to believe. A baby had been brought here, to them. A turtle baby. Who had been delivered by someone he had told his lover to go to in a time of trouble.

Donnie had been called a genius all his life. This puzzle was easy enough to piece together. Even if it just shouldn't have been. _Ever_.

"This would have been far easier, had you told your brothers what had happened ..." Usagi said with a small sigh.

"Yes, Donatello. It would have indeed."

Donnie had not thought it possible this to get any more uncomfortable. Master Splinter, however, had caught him off guard.

Usagi bowed immediately. Donnie looked everywhere but his master's face. Splinter quirked a brow, as if this whole situation amused him. But his sons could see the fire in his eye—Donnie wasn't the only one who could put together the pieces.

"Well?" Raph asked, his eyes narrowed. "Who's Akane, Donnie? Is there something you need to tell us?"

"A girl," Donnie said quietly. He glanced at the basket—Michelangelo was bent over it again, his mask tails brushing the child's nose. "I met her when we visited Usagi, and that's why I went missing … do I have to talk about this _now?_" he asked, almost despairing.

Leo opened his mouth to say something, but Mikey beat him to it, lifting his head excitedly.

"Oh, dude!_ I_ see how it is." His grin earned a fiery glare out of Donatello, which only served to deepen the mischief in Mikey's eyes. At least someone was having fun. "Being girl-crazy strikes again, huh? No wonder you were so tired when we found you in the morning—I mean, is the kid really yours?"

"She," Usagi said suddenly, looking utterly lost. "It's a girl. There are letters for you, by the way," the samurai added after a moment. "In the basket."

"Michelangelo." Splinter's voice silenced all of them. "Our guest should not have to hear your foolishness. Donatello will tell you all that he must,_ later. _He and I will speak first." Splinter motioned for Donnie to follow, with a look of intensity that Donnie had not seen since his childhood. "Come, my son. Your brothers will watch her until tonight."

Leo blinked. "We will?"

"Yes," Splinter said sharply. "If she is your niece, then you had better get used to her presence."

Wordlessly, Donnie followed their father away, through the dojo's paper doors. Within five minutes, everything had changed. The only one who seemed unaffected was the baby herself, who had now opened her wide brown eyes to stare up at the others. Michelangelo's smile widened, and he let her reach out and grip one of his fingers.

"What a dumbass," Raph muttered, after a minute of thick, tense quiet. "What was he thinking?"

"I couldn't tell you," Leo said tiredly, glancing around at who was left. "Don't look at me like that, Usagi. You did what you had to. I'm … going to make tea. Mikey, keep her quiet, I guess."

He hoped it—no, _she_—wouldn't cry. He wouldn't know what to do. Neither would her father (Leo's genius little brother, by some miracle) who had proven far too impulsive for his own good, after all.

Whoever Akane was, he felt sorry for her. To have met Donatello the one time he chose not to think.


	4. Letters

_Author's note: Finally, this has been properly edited! I'm sorry it took so long, but my writing has been taking a lot of backseats to visual art. The chapters following this one will probably fall into more of a "slice of life" genre, with some timeskips here and there. I hope you guys decide to stick around!_

* * *

_My dear Donatello,_

_I hope you and your brothers are doing well. More importantly, I hope that Usagi-san has found you and given our daughter into your care, so that my heart can ache less when it comes to her future. I'm very sorry if my _kanji _is shaky and difficult to read. I can't seem to help it as I write to you._

_Do you think of me very often? I like to think you would, even if I am as much a secret to your family as you are to the people I live among. I hoped you would come back sooner when I realized what was happening, but you said you're from far away. How could I know when next you'd come to my town?_

_I was afraid of what would happen to the child, if I couldn't find her father—or at least a place for her to grow up. My mistress was very angry. If I found no place for the baby, then she would get rid of her herself in some way, something I refuse to think about too hard._

_I guessed this would upset you. I hope I guessed right, and that your home will be a good place for a little girl._

_I realized we made a mistake, you and I. How can one night together decide whether two people are fit to be compatible? I worry that I have fated our daughter to endless questions and wondering. I'll certainly wonder about her. But maybe we will be able to visit, if my mistress ever changes her ways._

_I will write some important things you should know, since you weren't there for her hatching. But her name is Haru, for the early springtime, and her hatching day is the first day of _Uzuki_, the month of _u-no-hana. _I've enclosed a piece of her eggshell in this letter. I've kept some to be sentimental, but it's not fair that I do that and you have none._

_There is another letter, wrapped up with this one, but that one is for Haru. Do not open it for her, because I don't know when I'll be able to speak to her again. Or even if I will be able to speak with her again! When you decide she's of age, give it to her. They are her mother's words alone._

_I packed with her an owl carving—do you remember, Donatello? It was the one you admired at my stall months ago. I hope it carries for you good memories._

_I must stop now, my dear one. My tears are staining the paper and making my kanji even worse._

_Thank you for our night. And please take good care of Haru._

・ _Akane_

* * *

She hadn't cried since Usagi had set her basket down. Was that normal, Donnie wondered? To not react even when she had been dropped into this new, mysterious world, pulled through a nauseating hole between dimensions?

Maybe it was. He didn't know anything about children, after all.

Haru held his finger tightly, her eyes squeezed shut in sleep. Donatello rocked the little basket with his free hand, a gentle rhythm that seemed to calm them both.

Talking to his master over tea, in Splinter's room, had been far too normal a setting for the gravity of his new life. Sensei had not been angry, no. He even seemed to understand where Donatello's mind had slipped from common sense that night.

He had still been disappointed, and stern. It shamed Donnie, as he was sure it was meant to.

* * *

"_Do you understand, my son, what you have gotten yourself into?"_

"_Of course, sensei."_

"_Ah, but do you really? The many needs of a child, a girl child at that, when you have lived your whole life with one gender … the search for her mother, who suffers alone … and you are so young."_

_Master Splinter's voice smiles, but when Donnie dares to look up, his eyes are fierce._

"_I'm sorry, Master."_

"_Don't be sorry. Do what you must."_

"_And what is that?"_

_The tone sharpens. Donnie winces._

"_Use that fine, strong brain of yours, my son. We will help you, always, but _ you _must find that path yourself."_

* * *

A knock on the door pulled Donnie from his thoughts. It pulled Haru from her slumber too, and Donnie watched her eyes open … and saw her face screw up into what seemed to be complete anguish.

His door creaked open, and Mikey stared down at them-the tired, surprised Donnie, and Haru, who had begun to cry. Did all babies get so loud, so fast? Was there some sort of useful volume dial he could turn?

"Now you've done it." Donnie's hands hovered over his daughter, unable still to reach for her and give her comfort. Maybe the shock hadn't completely worn off after all. "She was so peaceful all night, and … damn it."

Mikey closed the door behind him. He took in before him his older brother, already looking desperate, and his niece (the best part: he had a _niece!_), wailing like it was the end of the world and ringing in his ears.

"I think they like to be held," he said, crouching by the basket. He was gentle, but not hesitant, as he reached under Haru and pulled her into his arms. Before Donnie could protest, Haru was resting comfortably against Mikey's chest. Her sobs were already receding.

Donnie stared. It figured that Michelangelo would be naturally good with kids, even if this was just as new to him. "I guess they do like to be held."

"Yeah, bro. I guess we'll remember that for future reference." Mikey's smile was as genuine as always, but maybe gentler than Donnie was used to. Mikey knew Splinter had read him the riot act, all right. "Usagi's gonna go home in the morning. He wants to make sure your girlfriend—Akane's alright. And maybe you and her will work something out, I dunno."

"Yeah. Maybe." The words of her letter churned his mind, made his head ache. _How can one night together decide whether two people are fit to be compatible? _How, indeed.

Still, Akane's future looked dark, where she was right now. At the very least, some sort of partnership should be made of this, once she had her freedom … she deserved to see her child, who was clearly so beloved already.

Donnie reached out behind him, to the little nightstand by his bed. His fingers trembled as they traced the carving's features.

"Mikey," he said hoarsely, "what am I gonna _do? _I mean … how do I know I can do this? I don't even think_ Splinter _thinks I can do it! And she …"

Donnie looked at his child, trailing off. He almost felt more helpless than she, and he knew how selfish, how _stupid, _that must sound. Where had he gone wrong? Had he stepped so far over the boundary of genius that he had tripped right back into the domain of idiots?

"Bro. Donnie. Don't think like that." Mikey adjusted his hold on Haru, her head resting on his shoulder. She was quieter now, but her eyes were wide and watching Donnie. Infants weren't capable of judgment. It was silly to think that she was waiting for him to make his move, to see if he would succeed or fail. But still—those bright eyes burned.

" How else can I think?" Donnie stared at the basket, his stomach in knots. "I don't know anything about this. About girls, or about kids."

He had nothing here for a child, let alone a _turtle _child. He would be depending on a girl whom he barely knew to help him, and that was _if _Usagi could even find her again. What did she need? What did she eat? Would he know if she was slow or behind for her age?

"Donnie," Mikey said again. His voice carried a gentle cast. "Try not to drift off, okay? We're both real good at that, but I think tonight you should extra hard to stay in the game."

He wanted to snap at his brother, reach out and slap him over the head just for being obnoxious. _You don't know what I'm going through. At least Master Splinter had my same worries once._

Instead Donatello breathed out, closing his eyes.

"Give her here," he said softly, holding out his arms. Mikey grinned, and passed Haru over carefully, her thumb tucked comfortably in her mouth. Donnie thought that his smile would be forced, but when he looked down, he was surprised to find it feeling _right _on his face.

Mikey jumped up, his burden lifted from his arms. "If you guys need anything, you know where to find us. And good luck, bro," he added, looking back as he walked through the doorway. "This is really intense and crazy. But you're also the smartest guy I know, so."

He closed the door softly, leaving Donnie alone with his daughter and his thoughts. He hoped that Haru was tugging at his heart already. That would make things easier when she got difficult. And, as Splinter had told him, things would get difficult.

There were very few people in the world Donnie could say that he loved. He wondered if he was too afraid to add one more to the list.


End file.
